Outside the station the number of media satellite vans had dropped from eight to three. CNN was still there with a lone young technician who sat in the front seat eating a sandwich. Wall tapped on the window. The technician rolled it down.
"I've been watching you guys on TV. Great reporting."
"Thanks a lot," he said in a Dutch accent.
"Where's the rest of your crew?"
"They are out, or actually she is out trying to dig up more information about these deaths."
"Yeah, it's the weirdest shit. Where is she from?"
"She told us her ancestors were Dutch, but she comes from Michigan or something like that."
On the nose, Wall thought. The melting pot of New York was a top-class training ground in getting to know nationalities and accents. It always interested him, more than his colleagues. "What do you think about these deaths?"
The young technician took a bite out of his sandwich. "I think they have been drinking canal water."
Wall laughed. "You could be right pal. I got to go, see you around."
Wall got the tram to the Leidseplein, then took a taxi to the hospital.
The young woman they had met before called her boss as soon as Wall entered the office and waved him through. Evelien Ruiten was already standing when Wall entered the office.
"Nice to see you again, Detective Wall," she said.
"Please, call me Harvey."
"And you can call me Evelien."
"Evelien," Wall repeated.
"What can I do for you?" She asked, as she shook his hand.
"I've got another name, but again only half."
"Is this how you always do your work? I'm beginning to see a trend here."
"It's not usually like that, believe me, but it's the only information I have. And just like you helped me with Margot, we might be able to give her a surname. We can be like a team. I supply one half of the information and you provide the other."
"Hmm," she replied, and tried to hold back a smile. "All right, so it's a female."
"Yes, another nurse, and she worked here the same time as Margot."
The head of human resources turned to her computer. Wall caught the scent of her perfume once again. It was light, subtle, not cheap or overpowering or assaulting his nose like a chemical warfare attack. The woman had class.
"Well, at least your information is getting more precise. What was her name?"
"Ans. I think you spell that as ANS."
"That's exactly how you would spell it," she said, and flashed a smile.
"She also worked in the same ward or at least the same floor at the same time as Margot van der Kalk."
Evelien Ruiten searched the database, but could not find anything, then started up another database. "I can't find an Ans working on that floor at the time."
"She was a temp."
"Aha, that's another story." She stood up and left her desk. "I have to look that up on another computer. Give me just a minute."
As she walked past towards the door he caught the scent of her perfume once again, and took a deep breath. He inhaled as much of the scent as possible.
The office was decorated in light colors, nothing jumped out. On the wall hung a couple of diplomas, he stepped forward to take a closer look. Human resources management, taken at some college in London, that explained the accent.
No photos of a husband or children on her desk. Was she single? Lesbian? Wall sat down and waited for about ten minutes before she finally returned with a sheet of paper in hand.
"Her name was Ans van Royen, and she came to us from the Medroep agency." She handed him a copy of an invoice with the Medroep logo on the top that contained details about the hours Ans van Royen had worked.
"I'm afraid I don't have any personal details, but you can get them from the agency itself. The address is on the invoice."
"That's just what I need. Thank you very much'. Wall looked at the address. It was unpronounceable.
"How are you enjoying Amsterdam." Evelien asked.
"I like it. It's a beautiful city but I'm spending so much time on this case I'm not getting to take in much of it, except the parts I see running around with Bakker. But the way he drives he has me concentrating on how to keep my food down rather than look at the beautiful buildings."
"Have you ever been on a boat trip on the canals?"
"I've seen them, but I haven't been on one yet."
"When this is all over let me take you and show you the city in a nice relaxing way. That's if you don't get seasick of course."
"It could never be worse than Bakker's driving, that's for sure."
"Believe me, it's quite safe. I don't think we have ever had a patient with seasickness from a canal boat trip."
"That's very kind. I'd like that." Harvey Wall reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a business card from the hotel.
"That's where I can be reached at the moment."
She took the card and studied it.
"My cell number is on the back."
"A hotel in Amsterdam and a US number beginning with 212, New York I believe?"
"Yes, I still have to get cards and a mobile from the police department here. Since the deaths everything has been just crazy and we haven't got round to that yet."
"I understand." She reached into a small pocket in the side of her suit, and took out a card. "Here's mine."
Wall glanced at it briefly and slipped it into his back trouser pocket. "Well thank you for your help. This will help us track these guys down," he said, holding up to copy of the invoice.
"I hope so." They shook hands again, then he left.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The Amsterdam Chronicles: Def-Con City Trilogy Part 1 Page 44
